


No Hostiles Detected

by Darling_Pigeon



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: First Meetings, Kinda?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-07 22:53:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17969603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darling_Pigeon/pseuds/Darling_Pigeon
Summary: Bloodhound takes pity.





	No Hostiles Detected

The drop wasn’t supposed to go like this.

Being torn away from his squad by a rogue competitor was less than ideal, and maybe even more so was colliding through the roof of a worn-down shack, stranded in the middle of the endless sands. He had managed to escape through a few well-placed decoys, but now his reality was beginning to set in. Trapped, still without a weapon, and alone.

Mirage kept his body low to the ground, steady and careful as he moved through the building. Like a mouse in the walls, he knew that sound meant detection, and detection, well- _no more championship_. He paused near the wooden stairs. Running a hand along the tattered steps, he rested his weight long enough to breathe. His bones ached, but the temporary relief was all he needed. 

“C’mon, you’re a star baby, the crowd’s waiting--wait, stop doing that," he whispered to himself, idly tapping his thumb on the wood. If not for his situation, he might have had the energy to be embarrassed. The pounding in his head didn't make it very easy to think either.

He groaned as quietly as he could, sinking his beaten figure further down the wall. Pulling out his comms device, he could tell it showed little signs of improvement. Along the screen laid a webbing crack, pixelating the display and warping any sound that struggled to make its way through. His squad was unresponsive. For now, it seemed, he was truly on his own.

“Don’t do this to me, come on!” He tapped at the shattered screen, desperately hoping that a classic miracle smack might snap something into place. “Come on!”

Dragging his fingers over his cheeks, frustration brimmed in his veins. He realized there was no use, angrily shoving the device back into his pouch, letting his head thud back against the wooden walls. It figures.

For a quiet moment, he allowed himself to breathe. A slow exhale. Rays of light made their way through the jagged holes in the ceiling, illuminating the thick dust that lingered in the air. Watching his breath disturb the gentle static was almost enough to ease his nerves. The little patterns were calming. Maybe he could wait things out, he thought, and just hunker down in this empty shack until Wraith and Pathfinder made their way out of Skull Town for him. They were coming for him, of course. They always did.

Despite the cherished moments of tranquility, his illusion of safety didn't last long.

There was a flash of orange light. A translucent wave washed over him, passing through the walls of the room and disappearing as quickly as it came. The accompanying sound was sharp, piercing his ears and sending a chill down his spine.

Mirage knew it was too soon to be the ring. At least, he didn’t _feel_ any pain. He craned his neck to peer out one of the cracks beside his head, searching for any sign of movement. The sound of approaching footsteps on hollow wood confirmed his worst fears.

All he could do was lay still, pressing his back firmly to the boards behind him. He wondered if closing his eyes might make him disappear entirely. Too late to find out now, he supposed. As the door opened, he clenched his jaw shut, eyes glued to the light bleeding around the figure in front of him as they stepped into frame.

The silhouetted legend, tall in stature, masked, with a gun raised directly towards _him._

Perhaps a decoy escape was too late.

The air was hot. Mirage felt the edges of his suit sticking to his skin, still sandy and torn from a long fall. The mask that stared back was worse than any expression could have been. It was unforgiving, cold, and no amount of focus could decipher whatever laid behind it. 

But Mirage knew he didn’t need to know. How could he _not_ recognize them? Bloodhound, the cryptic masked champion, staring him down through the sights of their pistol knowing full well he just another kill on their card. Mirage felt frozen in time, transfixed on the practiced calm in their grip.

Could they hear his heartbeat too?

For a long, agonizing moment, Mirage waited. 

And waited.

The hunter stepped closer, the floor beneath creaking under their boots. The desert sun illuminating their frame was nearly angelic, in a way. For only a second, Mirage thought a death like this might be peaceful.

His thoughts were cut short by a distorted voice.

“This death holds no honor,” they stated, slowly lowering their aim. Stale air filled Mirage's lungs. “For now, your story will not end here. Not like this.”

Any silence that lingered between them was quickly broken by the sound of tense laughter. In disbelief, it was all Mirage could do. Bloodhound held their posture steady, motionless. The uneasy chuckling filled the dusty shack, breathing life into it if only for a fleeting moment.

Bloodhound noticeably tensed their grip. Realizing they were serious, Mirage’s smile faltered, and soon his laughter faded as well. He eyed them carefully.

“...Oh, you're _serious_?”

His statement had little effect on Bloodhound, who merely tilted their head, running a gloved hand along the barrel of their gun. A few stray layers of sand fell to the floor.

“I do not take pride in such an easy kill. What would be the point?” they mused, inspecting the weapon in-hand. Their attention was almost entirely turned away.

 _This_ was the three-time Apex Champion he always read about? Mirage didn’t tear his gaze from the eyes of their mask. Opening his mouth to protest, words failed him, but maybe it was for the best. Protesting mercy was certainly not one of his better ideas. For once, Mirage was speechless. Despite their concentration, Bloodhound took notice of his silence, turning their attention back to catch the confused expression on his face.

“Do you not think you deserve better? If death is what you came here for, you chose quite a dramatic-”

“No! You’re right, you’re DEFINITELY right,” he interrupted, holding out his hands in agreement. “Very right! I am _not_ going to die looking like this.” 

They turned their focus back to their pistol, shoulders lifting as if they were laughing somewhere under that mask, amused by his little theatrics. Mirage was known for his charm, if anything. Something about their relaxed movements encouraged him to breathe easier. After all, he could be dead about ten times over, if they wished. He rolled his weight to his toes.

“...Thank you.” Mirage replied louder this time, making sure they could hear. His own life was not something he took lightly, even if not for his own sake. Everyone had someone they survived for. Taking notice, Bloodhound nodded, replying with a casual salute of one hand. Mirage smiled, to his own surprise. God, _no one_ was going to believe him.

There was an unfamiliar voice.

“Bloodhound, report your status.” Both of them heard it. The woman’s voice bursting from Bloodhounds earpiece was commanding, brimming with impatience. Mirage tensed his muscles, watching Bloodhound as if waiting for permission. Their hand rose to respond, but they froze.

They lowered their gaze to him, head tilted in curiosity. 

“You’re a ‘star’, are you not? And this arena is your stage.” Mirage wondered if they were rolling their eyes. Nudging their gun towards the door, Bloodhound softened their voice.

“Go.”

He surely didn’t have to be told twice.

With a firm nod, Mirage stumbled to his feet, bolting out of the open door behind them. His feet skid over the sandy wood, but he pulled himself upright, continuing over the desert terrain to reunite with his squadmates.

Bloodhound remained still, waiting until the sound of footsteps faded from their ears. Reaching up to the side of their mask and pressing against the embedded earpiece, they spoke quietly.

“No hostiles detected.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea in my head for a while, so let me know what you guys think! I still think I have a ways to go with nailing their personalities down, but I always like to be a little more playful with it! Thanks for reading!! <3


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